


Faster Than The Wind

by wickedg



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Community: got_exchange, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedg/pseuds/wickedg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Jaime goes into exile from Westeros but remains in contact over many years with Brienne, the Lady of Tarth, via raven and messenger. Could be angsty, romantic, or both. Does it end with a reunion, tragedy, or uncertainty? Up to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faster Than The Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coaldustcanary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaldustcanary/gifts).



> Post-Series, a royal family is mentioned but never named, moments of kinda angst and kinda fluff...

  
Ser Jaime,  
  
It is good to hear from you at last. You mentioned _where_ you are now, but not exactly _what_ it is you are doing.  
  
Yes, Tarth remains the Isle of Sapphires. Father has been glad of my return, and I confess I enjoy a roof above my head and a pillow to lay on during the night.  
  
It is strange to be named Lady after everything I, _we_ , have gone through, though I suppose it is a sign of respect for my father and family.  
  
I am glad you are still alive, Jaime.  
  
Brienne of Tarth  
  
-  
  
Ser Jaime,  
  
Jaime,  
  
Yes, you are correct.  
  
That is interesting work. It is good to hear that your left hand has improved so much since we last saw each other. It is good to see evidence of that as well. I recall the Lady Sansa telling me that her sister favoured her left hand. She had been crying a little before she said it, but from what I could gather, the Lady Arya was quite adept with her left sword hand. Maybe one day you will find her and test your skills with her. Maybe she could even teach you.  
  
I am sorry, that was meant in jest-please do _not_ try to seek out the missing Lady Stark, Jaime. She’ll likely kill you.  
  
Brienne  
  
-  
  
Jaime,  
  
You keep insisting on knowing if my hand has been sought after. Much like your own hand being ‘woefully ignored’, I feel this is dreadfully rude that you continue to ask when I continue to ignore the topic.  
  
Please do not take this the wrong way, but I find it difficult to quite believe that you took down a bull ‘one-handed’, when all my lessons and readings of Lys have indicated that it is _goats_ they breed and farm there. No mention of bulls, Jaime. The sun might have blinded you, or the goat may have been rather large?  
  
Speaking of the sun...I hope you are keeping warm. The Citadel seems determined not to declare it summer, and I fear a false spring. Tarth is always home, but it is so much more comfortable in the summers. The waters become particularly blue with the sun and heat-you can almost see the fish in the deep waters.  
  
Brienne  
  
-  
  
Jaime,  
  
If you will cast your mind back to my last letter, you will see that the topic was addressed and not ‘belligerently neglected’ to ‘wound your soul’.  
  
May the gods help me, however-there was so much in your last letter that I don’t wish to address it shall be a relief to burn the evidence of our correspondence and plead a poor memory.  
  
So instead I shall tell you of Podrick. He is still here with me, serving, though he tends more to my father at the moment at my insistence. A kind boy. He still stumbles over his words and calls me ‘Ser’ every so often. Which I must say, despite all that happened, makes me reminisce over my traveling days a little. When my head was filled with thoughts of becoming the Ser Podrick keeps naming me. Instead, I know he only really calls me so because of my appearance-despite the odd dresses I wear to please father.  
  
I hope all is well with you, and please note how I have not incessantly pried into aspects of your life that you might not wish to discuss.  
  
Brienne  
  
-  
  
Jaime,  
  
It had been so long since your last letter, I began to grow worried that something was amiss. At long last I am glad to hear you are well.  
  
And no, I do not keep your letters, Jaime. It is a habit that I am glad you also keep. Of course. With you away from Westeros, I believe it safer to keep knowledge of our communications at a minimum. It is not treason, but with my father ill, I wish not to bring him worry. I am glad we are of similar thinking on the subject.  
  
I must confess, however-with your sudden absence of letters, that I do find myself missing your company. And then you make a comment like _that_ and I am glad of the distance lest I cause you injury both to your body and your pride.  
  
Brienne  
  
-  
  
Jaime,  
  
It is amazing how one can both endear and frustrate in just one letter.  
  
Right after you wrote of it, Podrick came to inform me of the illness spreading in the capital. We are safe here, I believe, but it will be a while yet before we are sent any shipments of food and trade. Would that Tarth were actually made of sapphires...we would all continue to starve. The maesters do not know what is causing these deaths, and it does not discriminate rich or poor. I hope it does not reach across the seas; you are safe, then.  
  
And yet again it is wise that your words to me meet the flame. What you speak of is treason, and yet-I expect nothing less from you. I can only imagine your face, telling me to laugh. I suppose I should. Times are difficult for us all, however. I am glad you are not here to experience them with us. I should like to picture you in the sun with a smile on your lips.  
  
I. I do wish you didn’t have to leave, Jaime. I truly do. I shall maintain, however, with your ink and pen.  
  
Brienne  
  
-  
  
Ser Jaime,  
  
 ~~Ser~~ My Lady Brienne has instructed me to tell you that she has received your letters and is unfortunately unable to reply by her own hand at the moment. My lady says to write that she is sorry to betray your confidence in her (to me), but that the illness reached Tarth anyway. I was instructed to read your letters to her while serving her dinner. No one else was there, my lord, I promise you.  
  
My lady says to say that as soon as she is better she will write, and-and that though they bring her comfort, that maybe you should not write as much as you have recently. She says she appreciates your concern, but that she would not have you spend all of your time writing to her when you could be doing other things.  
  
I shall endeavor to bring my lady back to fighting health once more, my lord ser. The maester believes she will come through the fever, and I sit with her every night, I swear it. I often reread your previous letters to her. She thinks I have already set them to the fire, but I can tell she likes to hear them. Please don’t tell her I said that, I only wish to bring her comfort.  
  
Sincerely,  
Podrick Payne  
  
-  
  
Ser Jaime,  
  
I promise, on my life, that I have no knowledge of any of your previous letters ‘stubbornly stashed away’ by my lady, and I certainly won’t be checking beneath her mattress for you, either. I have said too much, please only contact my lady, not me.  
  
Sincerely,  
Podrick Payne  
  
-  
  
Jaime,  
  
Please stop harassing Podrick.  
  
Brienne  
  
(My lady wishes to add that she is feeling much better. - Sincerely, Podrick Payne)  
  
-  
  
Jaime,  
  
Though I am about to apologise for being short with you while ill, I thank you for your continued efforts to occupy my mind. It has not gone unappreciated.  
  
This illness has taken so much from us. The little princess has been taken, and the talk is that the rest of the royal family have been spirited away from King’s Landing to healthier climes. I do not suspect they will find much, since even my own home has been found by this senseless death. Not that I do not wish them all the best of health, of course. I am, as always, a loyal and grateful subject.  
  
I have not heard much from across the seas lately, with sailors refusing to be potential carriers of the illness, so it begs the question-how in the name of the Father are you able to send your correspondence to me? Podrick has obviously been successful in having my letters reach you (though by what means he stammers at me not to ask too much of), though I wonder about you, Jaime.  
  
Sometimes I miss your laugh, even when at my expense. Am I painting our past with too pretty a palette, do you think? Well, you were always the prettier of the two of us. Jaime the Maiden Fair. Prettiest Lady in all of Westeros.  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
I confess I was a touch sentimental when I last wrote, yes. I shan’t let it happen again, I promise you that.  
  
And no, Jaime. I do _not_ keep your letters. I have told you this before, I should not have to tell you again. And I most certainly do not lay awake at night ‘hugging them to my not-so-ample-chest’.  
  
It is becoming a terrible habit when I try to remember why I keep in contact with you.  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
I have not heard from you as of late. Are you well? Please write to me soon. Despite my last words I do care for you, no matter what you like to speak of my person.  
  
I am worried.  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
Thank the gods! I feared the worst, despite your-well, rather prideful- assurances of your newly developed sword skills. Not that you have nothing to be proud of, of course. I did not mean that, not at all. Your written word is quite legible and though I don’t have any previous samples of your original script, it really is very good. My own, well. I am no stranger to criticism, myself.  
  
I am glad you are well. If not a little sore. From what you describe (in great length and detail), it seems as if you were almost asking to be hurt. I would use the word ‘provoke’, but if what you say is true, I shan’t wish to upset you further. Who knows what power the great Jaime Lannister possesses to disarm me from across the Narrow Sea? It is a childhood lesson, is it not, not to pull the tail of a lion?  
  
Oh, to be able to speak the words I write so you could hear the tone intended. It is but a joke at your expense, dear Jaime. I hope your delicate mind is not too hurt by me.  
  
I look forward to your next words. Perhaps it will be another great story of Dothraki Screamers fighting on board a ship. A ship it is known they would never step foot on. On the waters they consider poisonous. But. You know, I am pleased to hear them...  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
Fine, yes. I am defeated. I concede that you are cleverer with your words. Though after having briefly met with your remaining family, I am not sure you would quite rank higher than your brother. And as Ser Hyle had once drunkenly sang, ‘if you cannot be pretty, you must be amusing’. He did not find it all that amusing when I beat him with my sword the next morning, with a resolute thunk to his armored head.  
  
I suppose by now you must have heard of the passing of the crown. Do you plan on returning to Westeros? Will it be on your mind to see your family home once more? I am not sure what I would do in your position. Had I not had my lord father to see once more, I may not have stepped back onto the shores of Tarth... for a little while, at least. Though in capable, caring hands, I would not wish to let the people of Tarth down by not returning.  
  
Oh, Jaime. I am sorry, I now see how that must sound. I did not mean it, I assure you.  
  
Though the question remains...shall you take passage and inquire a pardon? Please do let me know. I could be of some help, perhaps.  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
It has been some time, yes. I suppose I can forgive you. Your letter only told of being apologetic for not writing to me sooner. But sooner than what? I won’t beg for answers, Jaime-not when I am the one to be gracious and forgiving right now.  
  
I don’t know that I should tell you this myself, but. Jaime. I have been thinking at length on this, but I have to just say it, I suppose. ~~I~~  
  
Podrick just came in with your letter. Oh Jaime. Words cannot describe-please, tell me more, as soon as you can. I eagerly await more good news.  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
Is it futile to ask if anyone has ever told you that you are not very forthcoming with details of actual importance? As much as it entertained to hear about your return to luxuries I cannot fathom, it did not actually _tell_ me anything I asked about before.  
  
And yes, I can tell you are well. So no need to mock me with that, alright?  
  
So. Ser Jaime Lannister. You have been allowed to return to your familial home, under the care of a Tyrell. What is next? And please do not complain over your ‘glorified nurse maid’. I’m sure she has her reasons for what she does, and speaking from experience, you are not the easiest person to look after.  
  
 _Details_ , Jaime. Wax poetic on your circumstances, not how much your hair gleams, I beg of you.  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
I am going to confess something right now. I actually cheered when I saw how thick and lengthy your letter was.  
  
Now. What are you going to do? Out of everything, you did not mention what your role would be. Are you being reinstated? I imagine not, surely...I apologise, but you must know by now how the Lannisters are talked of here. Rumour and gossip remains so, but your father and brother and sister left quite the impression, I’m afraid. Though I no doubt imagine you have realised how you are still revered as a mighty warrior, I suppose.  
  
I’m sorry. That may have been a little cruel of me. But Jaime--you are somewhat prone to vanity at times. From what I remember, that is. For you see, I do not believe to have seen you for quite some time. ~~Are you able to travel?~~  
  
I hope to hear from you soon.  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
I am afraid-  
  
Ser Jaime,  
  
My lady wishes me to inform you that she is unable to travel or receive visitors due to mourning rituals here at Tarth. My Lord Selwyn Tarth has died after a lengthy illness.  
  
Sincerely,  
Podrick Payne  
  
(though I am sure she would appreciate any kind words you may have for her)  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
I am so terrible--it has been far too long since I have neglected your correspondence (all four of them! thank you, so much), that at one point I was almost tempted to hope you would write once more so I would not have to apologise thusly.  
  
Thank you for your kind words about my father’s death. He had been unwell for a long time before he died.  
  
I am Lady of Tarth now, it seems. And no, I do not wear dresses for you know quite well how I appear in them. I would not have my family name associated with a giant in silks. It is certainly different, however. And strange. Life is much busier and I fear that if we were to meet now that I would no longer be able to defeat you in a friendly round of sparring.  
  
A jest, Jaime. I could beat you in a dress. Care to see?  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
Words cannot describe how _busy_ it is here. I must have been very ill-informed about your family reputation, for it seems the Lannister name is still very much revered. Here, at least. One mention of your impending visit and I have had maids caught giggling over your name (I cannot believe I am actually telling you this) and stable boys forgetting their place and marching right up to me to inquire over your ability with a sword.  
  
I may have told them that you would be providing a few demonstrations. And lessons. Prepare to earn your keep, Lannister.  
  
Truly though, I am quite pleased that you will be coming to visit. Even if it is very much a long time from now. It will be nice to have a friend to speak to again.  
  
I must go now, however. There is much to be done here. And no, it is not _all_ for your arrival.  
  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
Jaime,  
  
I wanted to wait for you to get here to tell you this, but I fear I may love you more than as a brother-in-arms. Every letter I have had from you, I can hear your voice and see your face as you laugh, or tease, or bemoan, or anger.  
  
I know I have told you that I have burnt every letter from you--and that is true, I have. I do not lie about my actions, Jaime. I hope you would know this by now. They were so filled with you that I did not need to keep them as evidence of you having written to me. Not when your words filled my body and mind so. Who would need to see your words when I could recall each one as if we had spoken it the day before.  
  
Though I confess to having kept _one_.  
  
I know. I did not lie, but I omitted. I feel as though I may have learned that from you, perhaps.  
  
So Jaime. I tell you this because I know you could never say it back, not the way I would wish you to. I tell you this because not only do I think I love you, but because I hold such deserved respect for you that I knew I had to tell you.  
  
And I tell you this now because of that storm the other night, and the boat that carried its cargo into the bottom of the despicably sparkling waters. I tell you this now because you will never read these words and I am a coward. I had had many thoughts of telling you this when you arrived. Maybe over a meal. Or over the clash of steel. Or maybe even on the cliffs, when I would take you on a tour of what I call home.  
  
I tell you this now because now I never will.  
  
Love,  
Brienne  
  
\--  
  
 _Lady Brienne of ~~Wench~~ Tarth,  
  
As you might be able to tell, I am alive and well enough to write to you. I am in Lys now, and safe. Which I have you to thank for, I suppose.  
  
How is your home, Brienne? Were you given a hero’s welcome? I heard the Isle of Sapphires remained untouched by our (yours now, really) new royal family, I hope I was not ill-informed. Oh, I just had the most ridiculous thought-are you back in your dresses? Is it peculiar not having something between those legs of yours? Is there someone between those legs of yours? Lady Brienne, my Maiden Fair. I must know it all. How else am I to spend my days here, if not with thoughts of you?  
  
Jaime_


End file.
